


come on, come on

by Chokingonholywater



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), M/M, Mutual Pining, Richie Tozier Being a Dumbass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 04:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20632937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chokingonholywater/pseuds/Chokingonholywater
Summary: “Yo, Eddie, play some music, will ya?”When Richie asks Eddie to put on some music in the car that day after school, Eddie doesn't think anything of it. It's a familiar request; he knows the passcode to Richie's phone, knows where Spotify is, knows what Richie likes to listen to while he drives. But what Eddie doesn't know is why, exactly, there's suddenly a playlist with his name on it - literally.





	come on, come on

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Vamos, Vamos](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20759039) by [pinkmutantpotato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkmutantpotato/pseuds/pinkmutantpotato)

It’s a well known fact that once the bell has rung, class is over. No matter what the teacher does - keeps talking, stands in front of the door, pulls out the old “the bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do” spiel - it’s over. The students have already mentally left the class, are already onto their plans for that night and the girl they want to ask out and what they’re having for dinner. There’s not a single thing you can say or do to force high schoolers to stay engaged once that bell rings. 

Eddie’s history teacher had to know that, but it certainly didn't stop him from trying. 

“The reading for tonight is seventy three to eighty five in the textbook, don’t forget to take notes for the quiz on Friday, and to finish your notecards!”

Each word got louder, a desperate and pointless attempt to overcome the sounds of twenty-some teenagers zipping up their bags, scraping their chairs against the ground, and heading for the door, talking all the while. The drone of the bell cut off the start of his sentence too, signaling the dash for the door for the class. After all, the average high school student wasn’t exactly known for sitting still and listening politely to their teacher after the bell had rung.

There were, however, a few exceptions, and Eddie Kaspbrak was one of them.

Despite the crush of his fellow students heading for the door, Eddie was still at his desk, scribbling away at his planner. It wasn’t really that he had it in his head to stay until the teacher was done, or that he was an exceptionally respectful student, or even that he was particularly interested in history. He just didn’t want to miss any of the homework assignments and so, for a million nervous reasons that ranged from the fear of simply forgetting an assignment to somehow ending up in prison after flunking out of school and joining the mafia, Eddie wrote down his homework assignments every day. 

Usually this didn’t stop him from being among the kids springing up to leave as soon as the bell rang, but when his teachers ran late - well, Eddie didn’t exactly have much of a choice but to stay for those few extra moments to scribble down the assignments as he was then. 

He added that the flashcards were due Friday and underlined it, once and then once more. 

Or he would’ve, if his planner wasn’t grabbed off of his desk.

“C’mon, Eds! The bell rang, good sir, we’re free - free, I do say!”

Eddie rolled his eyes at Richie’s always-terrible posh British guy voice. 

“Yeah, I know, asshole,” he replied. He clicked in his pen and leaned over to stick it on the pocket on the side of his backpack, refusing to give Richie the satisfaction of looking at him. It was his silent way of throwing Richie swiping his planner back at him: if he didn’t look, didn't give the response Richie wanted (which was any response at all), he ruined the bit. Eddie knew how this worked - it was a dance he and Richie did often, and had since they were kids. Richie joked, Eddie fire something back, or fired nothing back, which was sometimes just as effective. 

“Gimme.” He intoned, holding out a hand for his planner and still not looking at Richie. 

He felt a surge of satisfaction when, after a moment, he felt the plastic of his planner smack against his hand.

“Thank you,” he said amicably, finally looking up at Richie with a toothy grin. 

He’d known what he was going to see before he even looked up, and there it was: Richie, hands stuck in his pockets, face screwed up in that particular look he got every time Eddie didn’t play along with his joke. It wasn’t anger - far from it, since he liked their metaphorical dance as much as Eddie did. It was more like a fondness hidden behind annoyance, the face of someone pretending to be exasperated when really the whole thing was part of the gag. It was only ever there for a brief moment and then gone, replaced by Richie’s own grin in turn. 

“C’mon, Eds! Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Richie exclaimed. “Clock's ticking,” he added, reaching over the desk to tap on Eddie’s watch, as he wasn’t wearing one himself. Eddie swatted his hand away without thinking about it. 

“Alright, calm down,” Eddie grumbled, getting up out of his chair. He swung his bag over his shoulder and stepped into the aisle between the desks. Richie, who had sprung up to be significantly taller than Eddie some time around sophomore year, was already halfway to the door in a few long strides by the time Eddie had pushed in his chair. 

“Keep up, Eds, my love!” Richie tossed over his shoulder, still grinning. 

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie replied, picking up the pace to catch up. Richie didn’t ask if Eddie meant not to call him “Eds”, or not to call him “my love”. He never did. Even if he had, Eddie wasn’t sure exactly what he would have said - probably just said that he meant both, just said “Just call me my _name_, Richie!”, just rolled his eyes like the answer was obvious. 

Eddie didn’t know why it wasn’t. 

He brushed the thought off, refusing to indulge useless thought spirals. It only took him a handful of hurried steps to catch up to Richie, who never actually aimed to walk too far out of reach, despite how he might act.

“Ah, Eds, another day done,” Richie said, slinging a lanky arm over Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie did nothing to stop him; it wasn't uncommon for Richie to do this, or to hook an arm around Eddie’s neck, or - Eddie’s least favorite - leave his elbow on Eddie’s shoulder or awkwardly on his head to remind Eddie of the several inches Richie had on him. An arm over his shoulders was nothing, and Eddie almost found himself leaning into the familiarity of it as they walked. 

They moved in sync without meaning to, years of practice giving them an easy harmony as they strolled down the rapidly emptying halls of Derry High School. It only took a minute or so of dodging between leaving students before they were rounding the corner to their lockers. 

“Ah say, ah say, the ‘ole crew is here!” Richie exclaimed in a terrible southern accent upon seeing the rest of their friends already at their lockers. Richie pulled his arm away from Eddie’s shoulder’s to high five Bev, and Eddie tried not to notice how much colder it felt without the warm pressure of Richie’s arm against his back. 

The whole crew really _was_ there, though, Eddie observed. They’d been pleasantly surprised when their request for seven lockers together had actually been a success during the process of senior locker choosing - they’d expected to be split up, since seven was a lot. It had worked out, though, and now they had their own little section of lockers, Losers only: Mike, Ben, Bev, Bill, Stan, Richie, and Eddie, who had demanded the extra room to avoid being crushed between his friends, at the end of the line of lockers. 

Bill, Mike, and Stan were standing in a small group, probably talking about a project or a class. Stan was rolling his eyes as he so often did, and Eddie smiled at the familiarity of his tone even if he didn’t have context. Bev was talking animatedly with Richie, or more accurately, he was talking animatedly at her as she laughed and shook her head. Ben was standing next to her, alternating glances between Richie’s comic expressions and Bev’s smile - it was obvious which one he was more endeared by. He and Bev weren’t dating, exactly, but Eddie figured it was only a matter of time. She and Bill had dated briefly earlier in high school, but it didn’t work out, though it ended amicably as a relationship can. Ben had been too nervous to make a move since then, but Eddie could tell this was the year. It was, after all, their last chance to make any sort of moves, since they would all be doing away to different schools in the fall. 

The thought caused a sudden wave of sadness in Eddie, who had tried to avoid thinking about the inevitable fact of their separation. They’d all applied to a few shared schools here and there, but he wasn’t naive. He knew that the odds of all of them together again was a dream for the summer, and after a year apart at school, who knows how they would all be? One summer can change everything. Eddie knew that. 

The thought of being separated made Eddie’s eyes move back to Richie without meaning too. There was that feeling in his gut again, like an opportunity he was losing or a desperation he couldn’t name. Which was crazy - out of all of them, Eddie and Richie had applied to the most schools in common. Richie had even joked that maybe they would be roommates (“Then Mrs. K could see you and me in one trip, although we might have to kick you out of our room for a bit of special t—“ “Beep beep, Richie.”), and Eddie found that he didn’t mind the idea. 

Regardless, there was no way that Eddie would lose Richie, or any of the other Losers, no matter where they went to school. Not if he could help it. And besides, with technology, he was sure it would be fine. Facetime was great, and their Snapchat group would surely stay active regardless of the physical distance between them all. 

Still, it couldn’t replicate everything, Eddie mused sadly as he observed his friends, one big group of people with enough love between them all that Eddie could practically feel it. He would miss that feeling when they weren’t all together anymore. 

“Ay, Spaghetti, what ah youse thinkin’ about?” Richie asked suddenly in a truly awful mobster voice, pulling Eddie back to reality. 

“Just wondering if you left a drool mark on your paper when you fell asleep in class earlier,” Eddie replied smoothly, the serious nature of his thoughts just a moment before tucked swiftly away. 

“Probably!” Richie said brightly. “But I can always just use yours if I need to, isn’t that right? Such a good little student,” Richie cooed, tapping Eddie on the nose. “I literally had to pull him away from his notebook at the end of class,” Richie intoned to Bev, eyes wide with fake sincerity. 

“Yeah whatever,” Eddie grumbled, gently shoving Richie’s arm. “Some of us are just trying to get good grades and get out of this town,” he added. 

“You wound me!” Richie said, throwing a hand to his chest and fluttering his lashes. “I’ll have you know, Edward, that I _am _in fact getting good grades. Hell, I mean, if you’re that worried about it, I could tutor you sometime, yknow—“ Richie winked as he said this, and Eddie felt his face heat up just slightly. 

“Beep beep, Richie,” he said out of habit, used to Richie’s sense of humor despite the light warmth in his face. 

“Hey, m-me and Stan are gonna get going,” Bill said suddenly. “A-anyone else need a ride?” 

“Oh, I’m gonna head out too,” Mike added, their small trio suddenly opening up to the rest of the group.

Between the three of them that had cars - Richie, Bill, and Mike - the Losers were always getting to and from school without the bus. Ben sometimes walked, since he lived pretty close to the school; Bev grabbed rides with whoever she was talking to that day, since they were all more than happy to drive each other around; Eddie almost always rode with Richie.

“Gimme a lift home, Mike?” Bev asked. “I’ve been dying to talk to someone about that article we read in journalism earlier,” she added. The two of them were the only ones of the Losers in that class, so they often talked about it together. 

“Sure thing,” Mike said, smiling. “Alright, let’s go,” he said. He bumped his shoulder gently against Bill’s next to him and raised one hand as a way of saying goodbye to the other Losers.

He and Bev walked away down the hall, already in a conversation about what they’d read earlier that day. Eddie almost laughed at the way that Ben’s gaze followed Bev down the hall - he was only brought back to reality when Bill said his name. 

“Ben? Need a ride?”

“Huh?” Ben asked, blinking. He seemed to catch up to reality just as Bill was about to ask again, saying, “Oh, uh, that’s okay! I thought I’d walk, since it’s finally sorta sunny out.” He shrugged and gave a small smile, as sweet as always. 

“Okay!” Bill smiled back, then turned to Stan. He didn’t even have to ask - Stan was already pushing off of the locker he had been leaning on, ready to go. 

“Bye guys,” he said, nodding at Eddie, Richie, and Ben as he and Bill began walking down the hall. 

“See ya, Stan the Man, Big Bill,” Richie replied, nodding solemnly. 

“You guys wanna head out too?” Ben asked after a moment of comfortable silence. 

“Actually, I gotta grab some stuff from my locker,” Eddie said, surprised that the words came from him - he’d totally forgotten until that moment. “You can wait, if you want; we can give you a ride still,” he added. 

“Oh, _can_ we?” Richie asked, tone dramatic as always. “Since when is it your car, huh? ‘We can give you a ride’— you gonna drive part of the way, Eds?” 

“You know what I mean,” Eddie scowled. His mother still wouldn’t let him get behind the wheel, so - aside from a few nearly disastrous attempts with Richie - Eddie had never driven a car before. Richie liked to poke fun at him for it, but the idea of driving sort of terrified him, if he was being honest. With all the things that could go wrong, it was a marvel to him that anyone drove at all. It was like a several thousand pound metal deathtrap, and Eddie was just expected to be okay with being responsible for controlling it? Nuh uh. He would have to learn to drive eventually, he knew, but he was content with riding around with his friends for now. 

“I did,” Richie admitted, grinning as he rested his elbow on Eddie’s shoulder, “but the face you make whenever I do shit like that is too cute cute cute to pass up!” 

Eddie ignored the joking comment, ducking out from under Richie’s arm and stifling a laugh when he had to scramble to catch his balance from the sudden lack of support. Ben watched this interaction with a small smile, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. 

“You guys are ridiculous,” he said finally, shaking his head slightly. There was something behind his words, a certain fond sense of knowing that Eddie didn’t quite know what to make of, but he didn’t pay much attention to it.

“Well, I know Richie is plenty ridiculous for the both of us,” Eddie said, suddenly overcome with the urge to stick out his tongue at Richie. He didn’t - they weren’t little kids anymore - but the urge was still surprisingly strong. He almost burst out laughing when Richie, in response to Eddie’s joking jab at his antics, stuck out his own tongue. 

Even after all these years, it still sometimes amazed Eddie how in sync he and Richie could be. 

Ben just laughed, still with that same sense of understanding behind it. 

“Thanks for offering, Eddie, but I’m good walking.” He left it unsaid that he didn’t want to impose of the two of them, on whatever their years and years of friendship had synced them into. Not that he didn’t feel like a part of the group - he was just perceptive. “See you guys later!” he said, throwing one more sweet smile and a wave over his shoulder as he walked down the hall. 

Eddie waved back, watching him go. 

After a moment, Richie broke the silence. 

“Alright, c’mon Eds, chop chop! Get those papers or whatever nerds like you need to get from your lockers,” he said, leaning up against the his own locker and gesturing at Eddie’s. “After all, I have things to do. Wouldn’t wanna keep your mom waiting, y’know?” 

“You’re so stupid,” Eddie said, shaking his head, but there was no malice in it. 

He could tell Richie was grinning without even looking at him - that big, broad grin the only ever seemed to be directed at Eddie. Eddie ignored it, instead stepping towards his locker to twist open the lock and grab what he needed. It was just a few things: his book for English, and the notebook he’d taken notes in for Physics earlier that day. It took him a moment to get to his notebook, since he only used the sort of binders that had zippers around them, another thing Richie deemed a nerd quality. (“Bet you wish you had one of my nerd binders now, huh, Rich?” Eddie had asked smugly when, the day after saying so, Richie’s history binder had exploded and strewn papers all over the hall.) 

Eddie was just zipping his binder when Richie started to tap his fingers on the locker that he was leaning on. Eddie knew this meant he was starting to get bored, which didn’t take long for Richie. Eddie almost rolled his eyes as Richie’s finger tapping became more insistent, less like a simple fidget and more like an intentional drum beat against the metal of the lockers. It was as familiar as anything, and Eddie found himself smiling as he shoved his notebook and book in his bag and zipped it up. 

“Finally!” Richie exclaimed as Eddie clicking the lock back into place. “Let’s get outta here, much better things to be doing—“

“Yeah, like your mom?” Eddie cut in, starting to walk down the hall. He smiled smugly at the moment of silence that followed his comment, something not often elicited from Richie Tozier.

Richie stood still for a second, staring at Eddie’s back. He was always taken pleasantly by surprise when Eddie returned his stupid sense of humor - it was like their own stupid little language, a catalogue of jokes and voices that had this certain layer of value to it because they were shared between them. He shook his head a little, smiling with a warmth and depth of emotion that Eddie, still walking down the hall, couldn’t see. Richie figured that was for the best. 

All of those thoughts flew through his head in a short moment, and it was only after that brief second that Richie was springing back into motion.

“Why, Eds, I can’t believe you would talk about Maggie that way!” Richie gasped, catching up to Eddie in just a few long strides. He placed one hand on his chest dramatically, the other wrapping around Eddie’s shoulder. “Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that was my influence rubbing off on you.”

“You wish,” Eddie shot back. “The only thing of yours rubbing off on me, currently, is dead skin cells.” Eddie shoved Richie’s hand off of his shoulder, although he hadn’t at all minded it being there. 

“And the thousands and thousands of germs, Eds, don’t forget those,” Richie grinned, wiggling his fingers in Eddie’s face. Eddie rolled his eyes and hit Richie’s hand out of the way. He’d gotten a little better about germs since he was a kid, but that didn’t mean he wanted to think about them. 

They’d reached the large set of glass doors that led out of the school - the ones that led to the South parking lot, where Richie and Eddie had parked earlier that day. It was the same area they always parked, so Eddie was pretty sure neither of them had even been consciously aware of the fact they were walking that way; it was just what they did. 

Richie lengthened his stride to slip in front of Eddie, shoving the door open with his shoulder. 

“After you,” Richie said, all formal chivalry mixed with the joking tone his voice always held. Eddie didn’t read into the gesture, didn’t let himself; Richie was always doing dumb stuff like that 

“Thanks,” he said, stepping out into the pleasantly sunny afternoon. 

Richie made some sort of noise of affirmation; it was pretty much their daily routine, so it wasn’t like they had to have a complicated discussion about it. He followed Eddie through the glass door, letting it start it’s slow arc of closing behind them. 

Ben had been right - it was a nice day for a walk. The sky was bright above the two of them as they walked towards the corner of the lot where Richie parked his car, the breeze a perfect balance of cool and warm. They walked in amicable silence for a bit, both pleasantly surprised by the break in the weather. 

It didn’t take long for Richie’s car to come into view - a dark blue Toyota something with far too many miles on it and more than its fair share of scratches in the paint. The sight of the car seemed to break whatever spell the nice weather had cast, and Richie broke the comfortable silence with a dramatic, love stricken sigh. 

“Every time I see her she gets more beautiful,” he sighed. “Not as cute as you, of course,” he added, glancing at Eddie, “but what is?” He placed one hand on the hood of the car, the other over his heart and closed his eyes. “I missed you so much, baby,” he said, voice morphing into what might’ve been a sorry greaser impression. 

Eddie rolled his eyes, stopping to stand next to the passenger door. The car was still locked, and Richie didn’t seem like he was gonna be stopping this bit any time soon, so Eddie said, “So like, are we gonna drive, or do you and the car need some alone time?”

Richie cracked one eye open, nose scrunched adorably to the side. “What, Eds, you jealous?” he said, snapping his eyes open on the last syllable and dragging his hand over the hood of the car in an over-the-top suggestive motion. Eddie scoffed, hoping his face didn’t betray anything other than his faux annoyance. 

“Just unlock the car, dumbass.”

“Your wish is my command,” Richie said, throwing himself into a dorky little bow. He pulled his keys from his back pocket and made a big show of clicking the button to unlock the doors. 

Eddie already had his hand on the handle, yanking it open as soon as he heard the mechanism click. He ducked into the car and swung off his backpack, tossing it in the backseat. Richie dipped into his own seat and removed his backpack, dropping it besides Eddie’s in the backseat. 

“So, where to?” Richie asked, jamming his keys in the ignition. 

For a brief, unbidden moment, Eddie wanted to say something different - the park for a walk, or the mall to wander around, or McDonald’s to sit and talk and do nothing together. The ideas flitted across his mind faster than he could process them, and it barely even registered as something he’d considered before he responded, “Back to my house.” 

“Forward, but I’ll roll with it.” 

“Beep beep,” Eddie grumbled - he’d absolutely walked into that one. 

Richie pulled out of the parking spot - really, he just turned the wheel and drove, since there were no cars parked around them. Between the fact that it had been a little while since the school day had ended and that Eddie always made Richie park far away because “teenagers are assholes, Rich! Someone is gonna park too close and hit your car with their door, or you won’t have room to get out of the spot, or someone could back into you, or—“, the surrounding area was empty. 

They drove easily through the mostly vacant parking lot, pulling up to the stop sign at the exit of the lot. After a few moments of waiting for a break in the traffic to turn out onto the road, Richie broke the brief silence. 

“Yo, Eddie, play some music, will ya?” Richie said. “My phone’s in the middle,” he added, jerking his chin in the general direction of the center cupholders.

Eddie had been too stuck in his thoughts to notice that there was no music, but as soon as Richie mentioned it, the car did seem uncomfortably quiet. Probably because Richie almost always played music in his car; unless a particularly riveting conversation was going on when he started driving, it was mandatory to have the bluetooth going. Even the short ride between Eddie’s house and Richie’s was an occasion that required a soundtrack, in spite of the fact that the drive wasn’t even long enough for a whole song. 

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie answered, grabbing for Richie’s phone. 

Richie usually had songs or playlists set up as soon as they got in the car, but some days he forgot. It happened every now and the - Eddie was used to the way his car radio was set up, and didn’t have any trouble turning it on and connecting the bluetooth to Richie’s phone. He didn’t have to pause to think as he unlocked Richie’s phone, the four digit code, 0307, as familiar as his own. He still thought Richie was an idiot for using his birthday as his passcode, but he knew it was a lost cause. He’d gone on for a several minute long lecture about password safety the first time he put together what it was, but Richie didn’t care. Eddie shook his head at the memory, smiling slightly as he opened Spotify. 

“Any requests?” He asked, looking over at Richie as the app opened. 

“Nah,” Richie answered. He looked like he was about to say more, but he paused to tale advantage of a small break in traffic to get them out of the lot and onto the road. “Play whatever you want,” he added after a moment. 

“Mkay,” Eddie replied, not really paying attention. He was scrolling through Richie’s many disorganized playlists, skimming to see what he should put on. There was no rhyme or reason to the order of the playlists, or even their names; some, like “songs to dance to”, were pretty self explanatory, while others, like the one labeled with only the letter “a” and the flashlight emoji were all but undecipherable to Eddie. He skimmed the names of the playlists as he scrolled, looking at the auto-generated playlist art when he couldn’t get a sense of the mix from the title. 

He was on his second scroll through of the playlists, about to give up and just put on Richie’s “it’s music” playlist, which was essentially just a mess of whatever songs Richie currently liked. All of a sudden, one of the playlists jumped out at him - how had he missed it? 

Right there, between “god i hate homework” and a playlist titled with three boat emojis, was[ a playlist simply called "eds"](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6r9Hz3ghBOer5V0Ba3TFTk?si=UF1suD4zQha2IapYHtvSwQ). Eddie was sure he’d never seen it before - it was close enough to the top of the list of playlists that Richie might’ve made it since Eddie had last had to put the music on. Still, Eddie couldn’t quite parse it - Richie had a made a playlist what, for him? About him?

His first response was brief - a moment of his heart rate rising, a sudden woozy feeling, a flood of heat that came and went in the blink of an eye. It was the thought of a thousand crappy rom-coms, of mixtapes and love notes and all the things Eddie didn’t let anywhere near the idea of Richie in his mind. 

The moment passed, the intense rush gone as quickly as it had come over him, and a new thought settled into Eddie’s mind: it had to be a bit. 

A dozen memories of Richie sending him links to songs or playlists that ended up actually being rickrolls, or the script of the Bee Movie, or any other weird meme suddenly surfaced. Eddie had stopped clicking the links, after a while - there was only so many times that he wanted to hear the opening beats of Never Gonna Give You Up, and Richie had far surpassed that number. He’d given up on sending Eddie trick links like that a year or two ago once he realized they didn’t work anymore, which had been both a blessing and a curse, as it meant Richie moved on to new bits that Eddie wasn’t expecting. 

This, though, had to be Richie’s new and improved version of the bit, right? It had been so long since he’d last tried it, he probably figured that it would work again. Maybe it was just Rick Astley’s voice over and over again, or the Wii Channel theme, or some other meme songs. The Shrek soundtrack, maybe, Eddie mused. After all, what were the odds of Richie forgetting to put music on and this new mix being there? Richie had forgotten to put music on last week, too, and he usually didn’t forget more than once or twice a month at most. It was too coincidental that this would happen again, that this playlist would just be sitting there begging for Eddie to open it.

It was definitely a bit then, Eddie decided, though his residually high heart rate seemed to think otherwise. 

Eddie knew he had to do something soon, before Richie tried to grab the phone and play something himself. He always tried to do it himself when Eddie took too long, no matter how many times Eddie went on about how unsafe it was for him to try to use his phone while driving. 

Eddie made the split second decision to indulge Richie - after all, he’d put a lot of effort into the bit. Eddie was sure if he didn’t play the mix now, Richie would just keep trying until he did. 

All of this looking and thinking and rationalizing had happened in the space of a minute or less.

“Oh, man,” Eddie said, hoping his voice didn’t betray the way he was still sort of woozy. “A playlist for me? You shouldn’t have.” He tried to school his tone into something sarcastic, something wry. Like someone who knew the joke was coming, but was gonna walk into it anyways, not someone who’d had a head rush moments before from what had to be a joke. 

“What?—“ Richie mumbled, glancing at Eddie out of the corner of his eye, but Eddie kept talking. 

“What is it this time? The classic rickroll?” Eddie said, gesturing dramatically with the phone. He was picking up speed, converting his brief moment of heart hammering, sappy panic into a sort of manic playing into the bit. He clicked on the playlist without looking at it, not yet playing but ready to start it. 

“Eddie, hold on,” Richie cut in as Eddie rambled, eyes widening. 

Eddie didn’t hold on. “Or maybe it’s twenty plays of What’s New Pussycat,” he continued, talking fast, his thumb poised over the green “Shuffle Play” button, “with one It’s Not Unusual in the mix—“

He stopped abruptly. He’d clicked play as he’d talked, and a song had filled the car. It wasn’t Rick Astley, or the Wii Channel Theme, or What’s New Pussycat, or anything funny at all. 

“_Wise men say, only fools rush in_,” crooned the voice from the speakers, a sweet ukulele playing along with him. _“But I can’t help falling in love with you.”_

Eddie suddenly felt all of that manic energy rush out of him. He knew this song - who didn’t? Not this cover, maybe, but everyone knows Can’t Help Falling In Love. The question was, what the hell was it doing on this playlist? 

Eddie looked at the cellphone in his hand finally, making sure the song was actually playing from the right playlist. 

His breath caught in his throat because there it was, first song on the mix, the little name scrolling along the bottom of the phone. And below that in the playlist was something called Fallingforyou, and then Eddie was scrolling like his life depended on it, watching the names of songs fly past his wide eyes. Each one brought back that woozy feeling times ten as he caught specific titles - A Teenager In Love, and Crush, and Trippy Love, and the playlist stretched on. Eddie waited for the punchline that didn’t come, more and more of the same sorts of titles the only thing in sight.

The car seemed uncomfortably hot and small and cramped all of a sudden. Eddie suddenly wished he had his inhaler to cut the heaviness in the air, the shortness of breath in his lungs - and he hadn’t carried his inhaler with him since freshman year. 

The car was too quiet suddenly, too. Richie was sitting silently, knuckles white around the wheel of the car, eyes glued straight ahead. Eddie could hear his blood rushing in his ears, and his own breathing, and the stupidly sweet song still playing through the speakers. The crooning voice was a saccharine torture, filling the car with a weight Eddie had been completely unprepared for. 

He didn’t know what to do, or what to say. Richie’s silence was deafening - how long had it been since Eddie had to deal with a crushing silence like this without Richie trying to crack a joke to ease the tension? 

He opened his mouth after a moment, unable to stand the painfully loud sound of the music in the otherwise silent car any longer.

“Richie—“ Eddie started, but cut off abruptly when Richie violently slammed on the brakes. Eddie lurched forward, the seatbelt digging into his neck for a moment before he fell back into the seat.

Richie was still holding the steering wheel tightly, but his face was pointed downwards. His eyes were squeezed closed, his breathing a little heavier than usual, sitting more still than Eddie had seen him in a long time. 

“Richie,” Eddie tried again, not sure what else to say. 

“Don’t.” Richie said. The silence in the car was heavy, so heavy Eddie thought he might drown in it. He couldn’t stop his racing thoughts; all the dumb, romantic ideas from that brief moment earlier fighting for dominance against the persistent idea that it was still some sort of joke, and both of those sorts of thoughts being crushed by a flood of concern for Richie. This sort of response was so out of character for him, and Eddie didn’t know what to do. Usually Richie was the one who had to help Eddie when he got overwhelmed like this. Eddie had never before had to return the favor. 

He opened his mouth to speak again, though to say what he wasn’t sure, but suddenly Richie opened his eyes and turned to look at Eddie. 

“Haha, sure got off a good one there, huh, Eds—_Eddie_!” Richie corrected himself, laughing breathlessly. His face was screwed up into a poor imitation of the grin Richie had given Eddie earlier, his voice tense and strained. “The joke, get it? I said to myself, you know, what a good bit it would be if-if—“ He broke off with an awkward laugh, his breathing erratic. “Because you know me, it’s about the chucks! Don’t you think it’s funny?” 

Eddie blinked, not sure what to do with this version of Richie. He wondered if this was what he looked like to Richie when he was in the middle of an attack - eyes too wide, voice shaking, words coming out in a jumble where each syllable ran into the next without pause. He wondered if Richie felt it, too - the urge to fix the problem, fix the whole world if he had to, if it meant he could help calm Eddie down. 

To start, Eddie reached over to the gear shift and put the car in park - they were on a small back road so he wasn’t worried about traffic, but he didn’t want the car to start rolling if Richie took his foot off the brakes.

Richie was still rambling on, and Eddie wanted nothing more than to calm him down, to help him, the way Richie always did for him.

“Rich,” Eddie said as he reached out and put an hand on Richie’s shoulder. Richie seemed to deflate, his mouth snapping closed as he drew away slightly from Eddie’s touch. Eddie drew his hand back, resting it on the center console. 

“It’s so funny, right?” Richie mumbled weakly, the manic vigor of his rambling a moment ago seeming to have disappeared entirely. 

“I...” Eddie didn’t know exactly where to go from here, so he just tried to think about what Richie usually did to help him. He should say something soothing, something sincere. It’s what Richie always did - weaving just the right combination of words to bring Eddie back down to Earth, somehow always knowing the right thing to say. 

“It doesn’t...have to be funny,” Eddie tried, not exactly sure where he was going. “You don’t always have to be joking, Rich. It’s...okay to just be,” Eddie said lamely. “I mean, of course you’re funny,” he added, feeling his own voice begin to get faster. “But like, you’re fine, yknow? You’re okay right now. You don’t have to be - to be doing a bit, or a joke, or whatever, you’ve just gotta _be_, y’know?” 

Eddie didn’t know if he’d said anything that even remotely made sense, if Richie would really hear any of it. He was beginning to think he hadn’t - Richie was sitting in silence still, eyes scanning Eddie’s face frantically. The song changed, then, the sweet chords of the ukulele being replaced by a new set of tones, and still Richie said nothing. After a grueling minute of silence, Richie finally broke the quiet.

“But if it’s not a joke, then what? If it’s real and it’s true and you don’t laugh and you don’t like it, then what?” he implored, voice quiet and scratchy. “If it’s not funny, then what do I do when it falls flat?” 

Eddie felt like his heart was about to explode in his chest. There was something in Richie’s voice, some sort of depth and emotion that Eddie wasn’t sure he’d heard before, and it made his heart ache. And if it wasn’t a joke - if the playlist was genuine—

He forced himself to laugh then, a horribly tense, stilted sound that shoved its way up from his gut. He almost winced at it himself, sure there had never been a more unnatural noise in all of history. 

“What the hell was that?” Richie asked, startled out of the raw, open tone he’s used a moment ago by the sheer oddity of Eddie’s awkward noise. 

“You said, uh,” Eddie said, struggling to get the words out over the pounding of his heart. They seemed to stick on his tongue, awkward and unsure, not wanting to read the situation wrong and ruin everything. 

He swallowed thickly and tried again. 

“You said, ‘What if you don’t like it? What if you don’t laugh?’, so there. I laughed.” 

The words tumbled over themselves and ran into one another as they fell from his lips and Eddie felt like he might throw up, or start to hyperventilate, or maybe just pass out. He’d never even let himself entertain the idea of the _whatever_ he felt about Richie, had never even let himself put a name to it or think about it, and now it was all spilling up at once; all the sappy thoughts ignored, the gestures forced down, the stupid daydreams that he shook from his mind as soon as he realized they were there. 

He waited for Richie to reply, to say or do _something_ in response. His thoughts were racing as fast as his heart - what if he was reading this all wrong? What if this wasn’t what he thought it was, what if he’d watched one too many stupid 90’s rom-coms and he’d jumped to conclusions and now everything would be ruined? What if—

And then Richie’s hand was moving from the steering wheel, finding its way to Eddie’s on the center console. He put his hand on top of Eddie’s lightly, palm to palm, like an invitation. Like a chance for Eddie to turn back, if Richie was the one reading things wrong. Like a choice literally in Eddie’s hands. 

And Eddie slowly curled his fingers up between Richie’s, threading them together. Richie’s own fingers seemed to curve around Eddie’s hand of their own accord, slowly and naturally as the clouds shifting in the sky above their parked car.

They both sat still then, as though whatever was happening was too unstable, too precarious to do anything other than sit there, as unmoving as possible. It was just their hands laced together resting on the center console of the car and the sound of the two of them breathing, and the song playing gently from the speakers. 

_“Don’t you see me? I-I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you.” _

Eddie was steadfastly not looking at Richie, his eyes wide as he stared out the window. He felt like he was dreaming: the slow, soft song filtering over them, Richie’s hand in his, just the two of them in his car on a nowhere side street. Maybe he _was_ dreaming. Maybe all the daydreams he’d shoved away had finally overcome him and forced their way back into his mind, and this was just his stupid, sappy heart making up an incredibly specific scenario where this would all finally happen. 

Eddie didn’t want to look at Richie, gripped with the fear that if he did, he would wake up and this would all slip away. He was terrified to move, to breathe, let alone to speak - as long as they stayed just as they were, then it was safe and real at the same time. If he was dreaming, he would keep staring out this window and keep dreaming forever. 

And if he wasn’t dreaming, if this was happening, he would still keep staring out the window. If he did, maybe he could freeze the moment as it was, before he and Richie had to talk about whatever the hell was going on. Before Richie could pull away and laugh like it was a joke, or brush it off like nothing, or worst of all, shove Eddie away for the things he’d kept hidden from Richie - and from himself - for so long. 

And then, after what couldn’t have been more than a minute of silently, precariously holding hands, Richie broke the spell of suspension. It was just the slightest motion, the smallest little lift of his arm, but Eddie felt it. Richie’s hand drew away from Eddie’s, only by a fraction of an inch, and Eddie instinctively tightened his grip to bring it back. He wasn’t ready to let go yet.

Richie sucked in a sharp inhale, allowing his hand to be pulled back against Eddie’s, his own fingers settling back in the spaces between Eddie’s with more surety than before. 

“Eddie?” Richie said tentatively, and Eddie closed his eyes, not ready for the scene to shift back into motion. He knew he couldn’t just sit there forever, pretending not to hear, but he wanted to. 

“Eds?” Richie said, voice a little softer, sounding as though it was a little closer than before. 

Eddie opened his eyes and turned towards Richie. Sure enough, Richie had shifted slightly, turning his body so he was facing Eddie, leaning forward a bit. 

“Yeah?” Eddie replied, voice barely more than a whisper. 

Richie blinked slowly, eyes searching Eddie’s face. He flicked them down to look at their intertwined hands, worrying his lower lip. Eddie almost laughed at the absurdity of Richie - the resident trashmouth, always the comedian, never able to stop running his mouth - not knowing what to say, or maybe not wanting to say anything. And this was a different sort of silence from him than earlier, Eddie noticed. It wasn’t pained, like he was choking, but more like he was thinking. Like he was weighing his words, like he was balancing carefully on a tightrope and didn’t want to say anything to send him, to send both of them, tumbling to the ground. 

Richie raised his eyes from their hands back up to Eddie’s face, and if Eddie’s heart hadn’t already been pounding, it certainly was now. The look on Richie’s face was enough to make Eddie feeling a little bit woozy, and his mouth went dry. It was something so open, so vulnerable, that Eddie had no idea what to say to it. 

Richie spoke, finally, instead. 

“Eds, is it—uh.” He swallowed hard. “Can I—?” His gaze flicked down slightly, then back up to Eddie’s eyes. 

It hit Eddie, suddenly, what Richie wasn’t saying; what he was weighing in his mind, what the question in his gaze was. 

_Can I kiss you?_

Eddie forgot how to breathe, and he felt like he might be sick, and his heart was going a hundred miles an hour, and somehow, still, he nodded. Just the tiniest motion, but Richie saw it.

There was a moment between Eddie’s minute nod and anything else happening that seemed to stretch into infinity. A thousand thoughts ran through Eddie’s mind in that second - was this really happening? Should he unbuckle his seatbelt? What if Eddie was wrong, and that wasn’t what Richie meant? If it was, was he supposed to lean in? Had Richie’s eyes always had those flecks of gold in them? 

And then Richie leaned forward, and Eddie’s eyes were so wide he felt like they would never close again, and then Richie’s face was right there, so, so close to his own. For the briefest fraction of a second Richie stopped, close enough that Eddie could feel his breath. In that smallest, tiniest moment, Richie’s eyes found Eddie’s from behind his glasses, searching.

And then, apparently satisfied with whatever he saw in Eddie’s wide eyes, he closed the tiny gap remaining between them. 

Richie was tentative, his lips pressing lightly against Eddie’s. He tasted vaguely like bubblegum, Eddie realized, and then berated himself for thinking when he should be - well, he had no idea what he should be doing. 

Richie was kissing him, and he had no goddamn idea what he was supposed to be doing. His eyes were wide still, stuck open. Richie had closed his, and Eddie observed the long shadows Richie’s long lashes cast on his cheekbones. He’d never been close enough to really notice them before, but now he couldn’t seem to do anything _but_ notice, even as his mind screaming for him to close his eyes or do something _normal_—

But then, suddenly, it was over. The kiss had been short; it had lasted only a few seconds, (not that Eddie had been counting) before Richie pulled back abruptly. And then there was that silence again, both of them staring with wide eyes, neither of them knowing what to say. Richie looked like he might try to speak, his lips parting slightly, but Eddie wasn’t ready for that.

He pitched forward over the center console, smashing his face against Richie’s. Richie made a small noise of surprise, but didn’t move away. 

Eddie had miscalculated where Richie’s lips where, accidentally shooting too far to the side, but he adjusted. Eddie had forced his eyes closed as he’d leaned in, and he fought the urge to open them again as his lips found Richie’s.

This kiss was just as awkward as the first, maybe even more so. Their noses were smushed together uncomfortably, and the edge of Richie’s glasses poked into Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie’s seatbelt was digging into his neck, but it didn’t matter. This didn’t have to be a perfect kiss - or rather, it was already perfect. Because it was Richie. Because it was happening at all. 

Eddie had no idea how you were supposed to kiss someone, but if they were doing it wrong, it still seemed pretty right. Their lips moved softly against each other, neither frantic nor overwhelming. It was all softness and tentative pressure, neither of them pressing too hard. 

This kiss lasted longer - at some point, Richie’s other hand found its way lightly, uncertainly, to Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie leaned into it, pulling against his seatbelt, wishing he’d thought to take it off. Still, they broke apart after just a few moments. 

Suddenly, Eddie became aware of the fact that while they’d been kissing, the song had switched. He laughed then - a real, free laugh - and Richie looked mortified. 

“What? _What?_” he asked, eyes wide. 

“It’s Shrek,” Eddie managed to get out between fits of laughter, all the tension and the pressure from earlier finally falling away into a flood of laughter Eddie couldn’t stop.

A look of realization set in as Richie realized what Eddie meant, and then he was laughing too. Before long they were both laughing uncontrollably, caught in fits of giggles that started up again every time they began to die down because the song was still playing. 

_“How much longer will it take to cure this? Just to cure it, ‘cause I can’t ignore it if it’s love.” _

“I can’t believe,” Eddie said breathlessly, laughing, “that you actually put _Accidentally In Love _from _Shrek_ on this playlist.” 

“Fuck you,” Richie choked out. “Shrek is— a masterpiece,” he gasped, and the two of them dissolved into another fit of laughter. 

Eddie was practically crying, and Richie was pressing one hand his gut, and they were both slumped down in their seats. All the tension of earlier was gone completely in the face of their laughter. It was like their whole world hadn’t just shifted minutes before, like something hadn’t just changed in a way that they would absolutely have to talk about. For that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was Eddie smile, so wide his face was starting to hurt, and Richie’s shoulder leaning against Eddie’s, shaking as he laughed, and their hands, still clasped together between them. 

Eddie could feel the weight of the world, of years of repression and denial and shame and fear, melting off of him as they laughed. He knew, somehow, things were going to be fine, that he liked Richie and Richie liked him and the two of them were alive and real and okay. The rest could wait - until they could stop laughing, or Eddie had to go home, or forever, for all that Eddie cared. 

All he cared about in that moment was that they were just Richie and Eddie still, laughing like idiots in Richie’s car, something as familiar as breathing. Just Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak, RichieandEddie, all one word, a pair like they’d always been. And if that made Eddie tear up a little from more than just laughter, and if he gripped Richie’s hand a little tighter between them, well, no one would ever know. 

The song that had started them off into their laughing fit was still playing through the radio, mixing with the sounds of their laughter and giggles and gasping breaths. 

“_I’m in love_,” came the voice through the speakers, repeating and echoing itself over and over. _“I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love.” _

And they were.

**Author's Note:**

> what can i say, im a sucker for lovesick mixes! if you wanna know what else is on richie's eds mix, [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6r9Hz3ghBOer5V0Ba3TFTk?si=B_40pcd7Sy-kTjTaDD_kdw)'s the link again! i hope you enjoyed, please leave a comment if you did :D
> 
> (find me on tumblr [here](choking-onholywater.tumblr.com) where i post about IT nonstop. come say hi!!!)


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